CHAPTER 2 – Welcome Home


“Claire? Are you awake? Stay with me…”

“She’s in pretty bad shape, sir…”

“I see that, dog! Just pick up the pace. Get to the…”

Brief lucid moments surrounded Claire, breaking in at odd moments during her exhausted sleep.

“I’ve never seen that before. Why does he want her back so badly?”

“Go home, Devon. The moon will help her.”

The moon, Claire thought wonderingly for a peaceful moment, sinking into sleep so deep that she felt wrapped in silk.

It wasn’t long before she felt a small pressure in the middle of her chest, slowly stirring out of her sleep with a groan as she grabbed at the sheets she felt around her.

I made it, came a satisfied thought.

A light, warm vibration came from the pressure on her chest, but Claire was unwilling to open her eyes just yet.

It wasn’t until something cold and wet bumped her nose and tickled at her cheek that she revealed her honey brown eyes to the world.

There was a calico nestled atop her, its wide hazel eyes and pink nose just before her face as it purred.

Blinking at her, its ears perked forward as it watched her awaken, and Claire gradually raised a hand, scratching behind one of them.

As it purred a bit more loudly, Claire began to look around her.

She was in a bedroom with walls painted a chalky blue, a wide, oak bookshelf filled with novels and CDs lined the wall, and there was a chair seated at a table that held a very expensive desktop computer.

There were several posters of various action movies and popular bands on the walls that she had seen or heard but didn’t think much of.

Claire’s pastel eyes continued scouting out the room until they abruptly stopped on the door’s handle, where a gas mask hung loosely.

Vivid memories of the night before reminded her of the male in black who had been wearing the mask, and Claire exhaled in slight embarrassment when she remembered how she had collapsed in both fatigue and fear of the sight of him.

The cat pressed its face up against her nose again, and Claire chuckled at it.

“What’re you doing, you silly thing?” she giggled.

“Giving you kisses,” replied the cat.

There was an awkward silence as Claire sat staring at it, before she jumped up, sending the cat flying across the bed.

“Whoa, hey!” the cat whined at her, landing on its white paws near her feet which were both, to her relief, in the same direction. “Are you mad? You could’ve warned me you were sitting up!”

“Why are you talking? You’re not supposed to talk!” exclaimed Claire at the cat, which now lowered its rump to the bed, taking a seat.

“I’m not just a cat. I’m a Shifter,” explained the cat in a whining voice. “And I like kissing pretty girls!”

Claire could only stare at the calico on the end of the bed, and it whipped its tail around idly.

“What? You’ve never met a Shifter before?” asked the calico, and Claire could only rub at her eyes, tousling her strawberry blonde hair around her shoulders.

“Don’t call me pretty… and to be honest, I didn’t know Shifters existed until not too long ago,” she explained lightly to the calico that had begun licking at the pink pads beneath the white fur of its paw.

“Well, then, I’m happy to be your first,” it giggled suggestively, making Claire roll her eyes. “You can call me Reilly,” it then said after she eyed it in silence.

“Okay, Reilly, my name’s Claire,” she replied.

“Hi Claire!” it exclaimed, its brown ears perking up again.

“Hi… Could you tell me where I am?”

“You’re in Dillinger’s apartment,” answered Reilly.

Matthew Dillinger, thought Claire in a soft tone, and she nearly sobbed in relief.

“Where is he? Is he here?” asked Claire in an excited tone, adjusting herself to sit up against the headboard, watching Reilly.

“He left a note,” Reilly said, eagerly leaping off the bed and onto the desk that had the computer.

The calico then grasped an index card in its teeth and returned to the bed in another flying leap, laying it helpfully on the bed within Claire’s reach.

She picked up the paper and raised it to her eyes.

I have school.
Reilly will be there.
-M
P.S. He’s a pervert.

Just as soon as she finished it, she heard Reilly mew and lowered the card, eyeing the cat that was now seated on her thighs.

“Personally, I’m offended,” Reilly scoffed. “First impressions really do matter, y’know.”

Claire watched as Reilly began to knead on the sheets on top of her thighs, digging his claws into the fabric and tugging on it slightly.

“Is your leg hurting?” he asked as he kneaded.

She wiggled her leg cautiously, cringing as she did.

“A bit…My ankle’s sore, and so is my shoulder,” Claire reported as she rotated her stiff arm.

“Well, they were both dislocated. There’s bound to be some structural damage. It probably won’t last beyond a few nights and then you’ll be good as new,” Reilly explained thoughtfully, continuing his idle kneading.

“Oh…” Claire murmured softly.

The cat only progressed his gentle kneading upward, rocking back and forth slightly while he sat on top of her thighs.

“You don’t know much about the Nightlife, do you?” asked Reilly, and when Claire didn’t answer, he tilted his head. “Well, maybe I can help you, just ask away.”

So many questions, thought Claire, if only I knew where to start…

The girl met Reilly’s rounded hazel eyes for a brief moment before she lifted her hands and stared down at her creamy, porcelain skin.

“Why do I transform into a monster when the moonlight hits me?” she asked softly, her eyes sad and glassy.

“You’re a Marionette, one of The Puppeteer’s dolls; therefore you are a Nightlife creation. All Nightlife folk have strong binds to the moon, though it’s a mystery why. The moon’s light reveals our true forms to the humans, along with our true abilities and appearances,” Reilly explained, halting his kneading and beginning to lick at his paw once more.

“Is that why I feel so…powerful when I’m in moonlight?”

“Yup, that’s right,” Reilly nodded a bit as he lowered his paw. “The sun weakens Nightlife creatures, while the moon empowers us. It’s why you’re pretty much human during the day, but heal rapidly at night.”

“I see…” she murmured, trailing off into thought, and Reilly’s left ear perked up.

“You’re one of the lucky dolls, Claire. Your body isn’t made of porcelain like the others, but a regenerative material that The Puppeteer molds his best dolls with,” said Reilly, and Claire snorted.

“Yeah, lucky me…” she said sarcastically, becoming quiet for a moment. “Reilly... Can you tell me anything about The Broken One?”

“Who? Dillinger? It’s rumored that he found a way to sever the strings that bound him to The Puppeteer, which is why he’s not under his control… It’s not really known how he freed himself, but if you ask me, I think he-“ Reilly had been theorizing when a voice cut in.

“Good thing nobody asked you,” came a deep, hollow voice, and both Claire and Reilly’s attention turned towards the door.

There stood a tall, adolescent male, with wild black hair and piercing blue-gray eyes, leaning against the doorframe of the room.

His arms were folded to his chest, and he had a stern expression on his face that flattened his lips.

“Rude as always, Dillinger,” Reilly hissed, making the black-haired male’s mouth upturn.

The Broken One, Claire gasped in thought, staring dumbfounded at him.

“You’re not needed here, Reilly. Get out,” Dillinger waved his hand in dismissal at the calico, to which Reilly hissed more, rising to all four paws.

“Jerk,” the cat said in a growling voice as he eyed Dillinger. “It was nice meeting you, Claire,” he murmured, before he bound off the bed and raced swiftly around the male and out the door.

Claire blinked, now slightly wary of Dillinger who seemed rude and abrupt with the friendly Reilly.

“Forgive me for being so curt with him, Claire. It doesn’t matter how many times I kick him out, he always comes back,” Dillinger explained to Claire in a much gentler voice, and his stern face softened. “I’m Matthew Dillinger, but you can call me Matt.”

“Yes, I remember you telling me online…” Claire said in a light tone, and Matt began to grin as he straightened from the doorframe, lowering his arms to his sides.

“I’m glad you made it, Claire. I’m sorry Devon and I weren’t there sooner,” Matt apologized as he moved across the room to sit on the edge of the bed.

Memories of the previous night came in a rush again, remembering Matt’s black clad body and gas mask, but she didn’t remember seeing anyone else.

“Devon?” she asked, and Matt chuckled heartily.

“Yeah, I guess you only saw him for a second. Devon is my associate, the lycan,” Matt explained, and Claire’s eyes widened when she thought of the dark, giant beast that had disappeared with the Ventriloquist.

“Werewolves exist…” she whispered, looking up at Matt when he sucked in air between his teeth.

“Ah, I wouldn’t call one of them that. Nightlife creatures despise human-given names,” he explained, squinting one frosty blue eye, and Claire’s mouth became taut as she fought an outburst.

He’s so hot! she couldn’t help to think as she surveyed his untamed, glossy black hair and smoldering eyes.

She noticed that he dressed well, with a long-sleeved shirt and trendy vest that contradicted his casual dark colored jeans.

“Devon and I brought you here soon after you fainted,” Matt was saying, and Claire felt the fury of her blush as he continued, “We kept you near the window so the moon could shine on you. How are you feeling? Sore?”

“Yeah, just a little stiff,” Claire said quickly, trying to play off her pain a bit but Matt still frowned.

“That’s understandable. You were battered up pretty badly. One more night of rest and you should be all better,” Matt said comfortingly, reaching over to adjust Claire’s blonde hair over her shoulder.

She felt herself relax for the first time in a long awhile, noticing that his hand was warm and not cold like the other dolls.

The other dolls, she reminded herself, remembering that this Matthew Dillinger was not only her savior, or the infamous Broken One, but a Ventriloquist that once belonged to The Puppeteer.

Claire’s mind backtracked, remembering how he had miraculously found her screen name and contacted her on the messenger, saying he would help her escape and become broken like he was.

Matt had offered her a home, a life as normal as possible for a Marionette, and she instantly felt a strong appreciation and draw to him.

“That gives me one more day to finish making your new identity. I’ve been procrastinating a bit,” he said with a sheepish look, and Claire smiled.

“I don’t mind. As long as you need,” she replied, and Matt nodded as he stood from the bed and wandered over to his computer chair, taking a seat and firing up his desktop.

“You’ll have a new last name, attend a new school, and acquire new friends. You’ll live here with me, unless you want your own apartment. That can be arranged if you’re uncomfortabl-“

“No! I’m extremely comfortable here,” Claire answered abruptly, her cheeks tingeing pink when she saw Matt smiling from the side view of his face. “Would your parents mind, though?”

“They’re dead. Besides, I’m emancipated,” the broken Ventriloquist answered stoutly, his fingers moving over the keyboard now. “I lived alone… until now,” he remarked with a laughing snort before turning in his chair in her direction, sending a sly grin at her.

“Welcome home, Claire.”